


Summer Is Coming

by ifinkufreaky



Series: Ivar and the Maidens [5]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Choking, F/M, Knifeplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, better BDSM negotiation than this character usually lets me pull off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 16:42:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10312628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifinkufreaky/pseuds/ifinkufreaky
Summary: Summer has a secret. Ivar has a strange way of flirting. They find it all fits together perfectly. This is a birthday gift for the fabulous DaggeredxRose





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daggeredxrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daggeredxrose/gifts).



Summer jumped as a long dagger slammed into the wood of the table beside her. The strong hand clenched around its hilt flexed, pulling the body of Ivar Ragnarsson up onto the bench beside her. She drew back almost unconsciously. She liked the young prince, but he made her terribly nervous. She wondered why he was choosing to come sit next to her, alone and frowning into her cup, when the great hall was full of guests in much better spirits reveling after the holiday feast.

The most handsome son of Ragnar leaned toward the simple girl from the village after he settled himself, making sure he had captured her eyes. “Summer,” he said, flashing that predatory grin everyone dreaded. “You… I have heard things about you.” He pulled the tip of his knife from the table and tapped its blade absently against his head, like he was pointing out exactly where he was holding her secrets.

Summer pulled in a long breath. “What do you mean?” She had recently ended a relationship with a boy from a nearby farm, and she had been very worried about whether he was going to start spreading rumors about her.

“Oh do not worry,” Ivar said, reaching over and brushing a strand of hair out of her face, “it’s nothing bad.” Summer suppressed a shiver. The prince had never touched her so familiarly before. It felt even better than she had imagined, his fingertips trailing over her forehead, lingering on the sensitive skin just in front of her ear. “At least… _I_ don’t think these things that I have heard are bad.” He took her hand in his then, started twining his fingers between hers idly, their elbows propped up next to each other on the table. He was bold, and casual, like they did this sort of thing all the time.

Summer looked around, wondering if any of her friends were seeing this. The hour had grown late, however, and the holiday feast was winding down. Most of her friends had gone home, and the people that remained were too drunk to care what the wallflower and the cripple were doing at a dark table off to one side of the room.

She hadn’t drank very much, herself. She hadn’t been in the mood. She hadn’t seen Ivar drinking either. She had tried to pretend she wasn’t watching him but now that he was right here, gazing at her with a soft and interested face, she could admit the strength of her crush on the youngest Ragnarsson. She had never let her friends know of course; Ivar had a nasty reputation and she didn’t expect anyone to understand.

Ivar tipped his head down, like he was about to tell her a secret. “I was waiting for you to leave that idiot,” he said.

“You were?” Summer breathed, barely able to believe that Ivar might feel something for her too.

Ivar nodded, face only a touch condescending. He pulled her hand toward him, pressed it down until her arm lay flat across the table. “I knew that he could not satisfy you.” His fingers brushed along her upturned palm.

Summer blushed. Now she was really curious about what kind of gossip had reached Ivar’s ears. “How… what makes you say that?” she asked.

Ivar only flashed her a dark grin, then turned his eyes to watch the tip of the dagger in his other hand. He held it up between their faces, then turned the point down and started lowering it dramatically toward her outstretched forearm.

Ivar was known for being unpredictable, violent, sadistic. Summer tried to pull away on reflex, even though excitement was flaring up the back of her spine. Ivar pressed the back of her hand firmly into the table, however. He had been expecting her to struggle. The tip of his knife came to rest on her gently, just below the inside of her elbow.

“I heard you were a freak,” Ivar said in a low voice. Summer knew immediately whose mouth had been running, then. He pivoted the dagger down so that the flat of the blade lay against her skin. He ran the cold metal down the inside of her arm as he spoke again. “I heard that he bored you.” Summer couldn’t stop her body from shuddering, her senses caught between anxiety and anticipation. The rumor was embarrassing but it was not wrong. She craved something dark. “I heard that you wanted to feel fear, and a little bit of pain, and that this boy wouldn’t give it to you. _Couldn’t_ , give it to you.”

Ivar dragged the blade back up her arm again, increasing the pressure only slightly. Her breath caught in her throat, and she could only hope nobody was watching them now. She did not want anyone to intervene, did not want this to stop. She couldn’t take her eyes off the knife against her skin. “Tell me, Summer,” Ivar said, leaning in until his next words danced warm breath over her cheek, “do you think that _I_ want to give these things to you?”

She took a deep, shaky breath. She wanted to look at Ivar, wanted to answer him, but she was afraid that if she moved at all she would ruin this somehow.

“Do you think that I _can_ give these things to you?” he continued, pressing the knife into the fleshiest part of her forearm, hard enough that she expected to feel a cutting pain at any moment.

This time the tightness in her throat allowed her to make a response, just a little squeak that sounded vaguely affirmative. Oh yes, everything about Ivar’s reputation told her he was capable of what she wanted. And probably more than she could handle.

She felt Ivar smile, the edge of his lip brushing her cheek. Then he brought his mouth to her ear. “So the only question that remains is: do you _want_ me to do these things to you?” he whispered.

Summer moaned, heat blossoming between her legs, but she couldn’t bring herself to say yes. Not yet. She turned her head and Ivar did not pull back; their faces were less than a hand’s-breadth apart as she searched his bottomless eyes. “You’re offering more than pain, I hope,” she asked. As excited as she was by the slide of his knife on her skin, she still wanted the things any girl wanted from a boy.

A smile broke through Ivar’s heavy gaze then, like the sun breaking from behind clouds. He set the knife down and brought his fingers up to her face. His eyes floated slowly down to her mouth and Summer’s heart started to race even faster. His smile became a small, self-satisfied thing as he bent in to ghost his lips over hers.

Summer felt her body curl toward him in want as she closed her eyes and pressed herself into Ivar’s kiss. She had barely dared dream of this; she was no princess, no great beauty. And yet here Ivar was, choosing her. Dancing his fingers over her cheek, threading his other arm around her waist. “I want to make you feel many things, sweet little Summer,” Ivar said, finally answering her question. He breathed deeply in the skin of her neck as he pulled her closer on the bench to him. His body was shifting, like he was becoming very aroused as well. “Tell me what it is that you want.”

Summer’s face flushed; she felt like she was going to burst out of her own skin. This was almost too much, too perfectly like her daydreams of him. She suddenly wondered if it were a trick. What if Ivar was just mocking her, the strange little freak with strange little thoughts. Her so-called friends had spilled her secrets and were putting him up to this. She looked around the room again as Ivar nipped and nibbled at her throat. No one was looking at them. A few people remained on their feet, talking and swaying, and other couples had retreated to their own dark corners. She didn’t see anyone that knew her anymore.

With every shift in his embrace, Ivar was pulling her closer to his lap. “Too shy, Summer?” he lifted his head, captured her eyes again. “You can’t describe the evil things you’ve been dreaming I will do to you?”

She thought she must look like a deer at the end of a hunt, already trussed up and waiting for that killing blow. She opened her mouth to speak, blushed again and closed it. “These things are hard to say.” She wanted to look away and clear her head but his hypnotic eyes wouldn’t let her.

Ivar ran his hands up her sides, eagerly, possessively. “Then let me tell you what I want.” He kissed her again, lips dancing between hers as he inhaled sharply through his nose. Like his lust was so great that he had to interrupt himself just to taste her again. “No, better, let me show you,” he said, tugging her up into his lap, “and you can just stop me if you can’t take it.”

The thrill of fear that ran through Summer at those words was exactly what she had been looking for, what had been missing when she lay with her last boyfriend. She tried to settle her bottom sideways across the prince’s legs, but he stopped her with a smack on the ass and a rough hand at the back of her neck. “No, spread your legs around me,” he urged in a low voice.

Summer might have hesitated if he was anyone else. But the desperate ache Ivar had started between her thighs was bidding her to forget any thoughts of taking things slow, her body pleading with her to just do whatever he said. She tucked her skirts up just high enough to allow the movement and swung her knee over him. As Summer climbed into his lap, she was keenly aware of the cool air hitting her nakedness under there. She could tell by the sensation that she was already soaking wet for the young prince. She held herself above him, hesitant to let that sensitive flesh touch the rough fabric of Ivar’s pants.

Ivar was staring at Summer as she settled above him, his arrogant façade cracking for a moment as he looked like he almost couldn’t believe how lucky he was tonight. His gaze made her bold and she smiled at him as she smoothed her dress back down, hands lingering on all of her curves. Ivar bit his lip as his eyes followed her every move. Then he pushed his hands up the tops of her thighs, rumpling the fabric she had just smoothed. He threw her a cheeky grin as he leaned forward and snaked one hand up to pull her head down for another kiss.

He licked along her parted lips until she opened her mouth wider and gave him entry. Ivar’s kiss was a sucking, drowning thing, making her lose track of the world for a moment. Until she realized he was reaching past her for something on the table. Summer pulled back just as Ivar retrieved his knife, holding it up once more in the space between them. His mouth curled in a mischievous smile as he tapped the blade against her cheek.

“You are so lovely,” he cooed as he drew the blade down the side of her neck, ran that cold metal over the exposed skin of her upper chest. Summer sighed as the adrenaline rush hit her again, savoring the way Ivar’s threatening caress brought goosebumps to her flesh and another gush of warmth to her core.

The fingers of his other hand crept under her skirt, dancing up the back of her thigh.

“Ivar…” she moaned, and tried to press her body closer to his. She stopped when she realized he was not yielding; she was only pressing her chest harder against his blade.

“So eager,” he said appreciatively, his first and last fingers tickling the flesh at the crease of both thighs now, palm bridging her sex without touching it. “How badly do you want me to touch you right now.”

Summer let out a frustrated moan and bucked her hips, trying to get the contact he was withholding. Ivar’s knife bit into her flesh, just below her collarbone. They both looked down at the line of crimson starting to well up. Her voice came out only barely above a whisper: “Badly enough to bleed for you.”

Ivar’s eyelids fluttered and he groaned at her words. He rewarded Summer with the contact she had been craving, pushing his palm against her womanhood and rubbing the heel of his hand in circles over her clit. She groaned in relief as the pleasure hit her like a blow, finally something solid and real where she craved it most. She couldn’t close her eyes though, fascinated by the slack look on Ivar’s face as he stared at the beads of blood forming at the edge of his blade.

She was suddenly very grateful they were sitting such that her back was to the rest of the room. No one would know how depraved things were getting in this private space between their bodies.

When Ivar pulled the knife away, it left a coppery red smear along her skin. They both stared at the little wound as Summer ground herself into Ivar’s hand. When he finally lifted his eyes to hers again, they were dark with things she couldn’t quite fathom. He smirked at her and started teasing her opening with his fingers, still allowing her to grind her clit into his palm.

“Is this what you’ve been craving, Summer?” he asked with that mocking tone he was always taking with people. He tapped the flat of his blade against her nose, like he was reprimanding her for seeking such pleasures. “The closer to danger you get, the more wanton you feel,” he accused, but there was no real bite in it. He was clearly enjoying the show she was putting on for him, writhing and gasping as he worked the tips of two fingers inside of her. He teased her cheek with the flat side of his dagger, sliding it close to her mouth. “Kiss it.”

Summer felt like she was flying, to finally be in the arms of someone that was embracing this secret thing about her that she had always thought should be shameful. She pursed her lips and leaned into the blade, kissing it dutifully while staring into Ivar’s heated eyes. He grinned and tapped it against her mouth again before setting it to the side. “Enough for now, I will decorate you more when we are away from prying eyes.”

The reminder made Summer want to turn and see what was going on in the rest of the hall now, but Ivar pulled her down for another kiss before she could see anything. As soon as his lips pressed into hers, he increased the pressure of his fingers, beginning to plumb her depths earnestly now. She forgot all about the room behind her. Her world narrowed down to only his twin invasions at her mouth and cunt.

Ivar’s movements held none of the hesitations of her previous boyfriend. He was shifting his techniques slowly, feeling out her responses to different angles, different speeds, but he did it with a patience and confidence that made even his mistakes somehow erotic. It wasn’t long until she started to feel the knot building inside her that meant her pleasure was getting ready to peak. When Ivar started rubbing her just the right way she broke the kiss to clutch at his shoulders, burying her face in his neck and gasping encouraging noises.

“Like that?” he purred, and Summer knew her fate was sealed. Ivar was about to make her come in front of everyone that was left in the great hall. She just hoped she would be able to be quiet.

After a few more perfect strokes he stopped, however.

“There is one more thing I have been dying to do to you,” he whispered in Summer’s ear. All she could do was moan and press herself into his hand, pray that he wasn’t stopping for too long.

Ivar’s right hand resumed the motion that had brought her to the brink, but this time more slowly. A steady pace meant to keep her passion from ending too quickly. His left hand crept over her throat.

“Would it frighten you if I pressed here?” Ivar asked, closing his palm over her voicebox, the fingers of his large hand curling around the back of her neck.

Summer whimpered. Ivar’s secret desires were the same as her own.

He drew his face closer to her lidded eyes, still keeping up the steady rhythm between her thighs. “Answer me, Summer.” His index finger and thumb were pressing just under her jaw, his eyes so blown out with lust they weren’t even blue anymore.

She looked back at him, equally lost in passion. “Please. Just a little. It is frightening; but I want it.”

Ivar grinned like a madman and intensified the strokings of his right hand. “Shhhh,” he soothed, then pressed in under her jaw just a little more. “I won’t hurt you.” He pulled her down with that grip, until her mouth was hovering just above his brow. “I just want to hear your breath gasp and rattle,” he whispered. Then he laid his ear next to her parted lips and slowly increased his pressure until they could both hear the air rasp in her throat as it struggled to pass under his hand.

Pleasure bloomed and Summer tried to moan. Her voice caught in gravelly hitches on the way out, a sound that turned them both on even more.

“Now, now you can come for me,” Ivar coaxed, pressing his fingers harder and faster into her superheated pleasure center until her orgasm spilled over her like an overturned lamp, burning oil consuming every part of her. She held her breath to stop herself from crying out; Ivar’s single groan of pleasure as he realized what was happening was the only sound in her ears as she came violently against the twin anchors of his hands. He owned both her joy and her life at that moment. It was all she had ever wanted from a man.

Ivar did not relax either grip until she brought both her own hands up and tore him away from her throat. He watched her enjoy her first clear, free breath after she had become his. Then he folded her into his chest and held her still as she came down.

Summer slowly came back to herself, started pressing small kisses into the hollow below Ivar’s throat. “What about you?” she asked timidly.

“Relax,” he said, laying a kiss on the top of her head. “I have no doubt you will find a way to pay me back soon enough.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ivar's just a boy who's happy he's found a girlfriend... but he's Ivar so you only get to see that for about .025 seconds.


End file.
